


Thinking of You

by SanneARBY



Series: Thinking of You [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Thoughts, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, Johnlock - Freeform, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Military Kink, Other, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:42:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanneARBY/pseuds/SanneARBY
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's been thinking about John a lot lately. And maybe that John has been thinking about Sherlock a lot lately, too. </p><p>Shameless PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically going to be a lot of porn. If you squint, there will be plot. But don't expect much of it.

It wasn’t something he wasn’t used to. Really, it had happened before. Just not – when he woke up. And not ever when he just had a case and was catching up with the hours he hadn’t slept. So Sherlock groaned and turned on his stomach, hoping it would go away. But it didn’t. The friction of the mattress only made him whimper.  _Oh_.

Sherlock rolled on his back, opened his eyes and then kicked off the sheets, looking at the bulge in his pyjama trousers. When was the last time he had touched himself? Well, not long ago, that’s for sure. Last time was somewhere around Easter… when John had been single and a  _bit_  too loud in the shower. The thought of it alone made Sherlock whimper again.

The sounds that had emerged from John had been so wonderfully arousing that Sherlock couldn’t help but touch himself. He had come  _almost_  at the same time as John. And oh, hadn’t he come. It had been wonderful and blissful, and Sherlock had been certain to do it again as soon as he would hear John again. But that event hadn’t occurred yet, and apparently his cock wasn’t happy with that.

“Don’t.” Sherlock murmured, but he knew it wouldn’t help anything. Because he didn’t touch himself often, he wasn’t able to will erections away when they arose. Great. Sherlock sighed and then licked his lips and sat up. He unbuttoned his shirt and flung the fabric to the ground. Then he pushed his hips off the mattress and undid his trousers and pants.

He ran his hands over his chest. Hm. John. John’s warm hands over Sherlock’s chest. Yes. Sherlock moaned softly as he reached his nipples and he twisted one slightly. “Oh.” he gasped, then bit his lips. John was still upstairs doing whatever.  _Probably doing the same as you_. At the thought of that, Sherlock let out another moan and trailed his hand down to his cock, purposely avoiding it.

He bit on his lip again and caressed his thigh. He could feel John’s breath on his thighs, feel the kisses being pressed against his balls. It made Sherlock cry out quietly as he finally wrapped his hand around his length, stroking himself slowly. Way too slowly. He fastened his pace slightly and arched his back. “Hah – John..” he whimpered, swallowing down a low grumble.

It was so easy to imagine John’s touches and John’s voice. God, maybe Sherlock had been a little too involved with John and the way he talked and acted. “Johnnn…” Sherlock moaned, ripping himself from his thoughts as he stroked himself fast. He forced himself to slow down again, and pinched his nipple, gasping slightly.

Heat pooled in his stomach, he arched his back and pushed his hips up and then – stopped all movements. He let himself go and evened his breathing. He had been close. He had been close so soon, probably the first time he had been so close so soon. John was doing things to him…

Sherlock rolled over a bit and opened the drawer of his nightstand, grabbing some lube. He needed something inside him, quick. He threw the lube on his mattress and then searched through his drawer. He had to have it somewhere.

Once, Sherlock had seen John naked. It had been an honest accident, really. He had unintentionally spilled acid on John’s clothing, and John had to undress himself as quickly as he could before the liquid could drip into his skin. And then John had stood naked in front of Sherlock, the detective temporarily unable to speak. Temporarily, because then John had covered himself from Sherlock’s eyes and shouted at him to  _not stare_. Sherlock had snapped back to reality and nodded, averting his gaze with a deep flush.

Sherlock made a noise when he finally found the dildo, and he looked at it. Yes. It was  _almost_  John’s size. He might have had a split second of looking at it, but that had been enough for Sherlock to remember each detail and its size. He put the dildo in his mouth and sucked at it, wetting it with his tongue. He fantasised the wetness and hotness from John, and God, wasn’t he happy with his rich imagination.

Sherlock whimpered as he stroked himself again, slow and lazy strokes as he sucked on the dildo and licked the silicone tip. He teased a digit at his entrance and pushed in slightly with a whimper. He pushed it in fully and waited a few seconds before starting to move. Oh.

“Ngn.. John..” he groaned, aching his back slightly as he added a second finger. He knew this wasn’t John’s width yet. He was at least three fingers. Maybe four. By the thought of that, Sherlock moaned and bucked his hips up in his hand. He added a third finger and let out a small gasp. He crooked his fingers slightly and then muffled a cry.

He let go of his cock with slight whine and grabbed the dildo. He then pulled his fingers out slowly and took the bottle of lube, slicking the silicone toy up with the goo inside it before flinging the bottle to the nightstand. Oh, it was so easy to imagine John’s cock in front of Sherlock’s face; all hot and bothered and now wet from the lube. Sherlock felt his cock twitch at the thought, and he moaned again.

He took the dildo and positioned it, and then he pushed the tip in. “Oh – yes.” he breathed, pushing the silicone in fully and then moaning loud. At this point he didn’t even care if John could hear him or not. Maybe he did and would join Sherlock. Oh God.  _Maybe he did and would join Sherlock_. Sherlock groaned and moved the dildo in a slow pace. He wasn’t touching himself yet, because he was more than sure he would come at instant if he did.

Sherlock bucked his hips up to meet the thrusts of the toy, and he moaned. He imagined it was John thrusting inside him, skin on skin contact and John panting behind him. “ _Oh_.” Sherlock gasped, then fastening the pace. He felt himself nearing his orgasm- recognised the heat in his stomach and his body tensing. He wanted to let himself go and come over his stomach, but he didn’t. Instead, he stopped moving like he had before, and he whined.

He had to come.  _Now_. But he also needed John inside him. God, did he need John inside him. Sherlock’s breathing was ragged, and he felt sweat dripping from his curls onto his fore head and pillow. He pulled the toy out until the only tip was still in, and then he pushed it back in, fast. He cried out and arched his back again, doing it again. And again, and again. He made little cries and gasps, and moaned John’s name as the toy brushed past his prostate.

It kept hitting his prostate, and Sherlock started stroking himself again, his hips pushed off the bed. They weren’t fast strokes, but just enough to send him over the edge; and before Sherlock knew it, he cried out John’s name and spilled over his stomach, shaking a bit before falling down on the mattress, wasted. He panted and pulled the toy out, whining slightly at the loss.

He was about to get up from his bed to clean everything up, when he saw a small camera in his bookcase.


	2. Chapter 2

He knew it was wrong. Really, he knew what he was doing was far from good, and was also very close to voyeurism. No, it  _was_ voyeurism. Planting a camera in the bedroom of your flatmate wasn’t something that was good. It was bad and voyeuristic. Of course John had to do it.

He had heard Sherlock once, being loud and clear. Though John wasn’t sure if it had been on purpose or not, now he needed to see Sherlock in ecstasy, because those damn  _sounds_  had been absolutely amazing. And arousing, of course. So arousing, in fact, that John couldn’t help but touch himself over it. It had been so amazingly beautiful to hear those sounds being elicited from his flatmate. And no, John wasn’t even sorry for coming just from those sounds and the mental picture of Sherlock touching himself.

John licked his lips as Sherlock threw off his blankets to reveal a bulge in his trousers. John started palming himself through his trousers. This was wrong on so many levels, and John liked it. He made a sound when Sherlock rid himself of his clothing and revealed himself fully. Oh. 

John applied more pressure with his hand, following the movement of Sherlock’s hand with his eyes. It twisted his nipple, it went down to caress his thigh. “Fuck, Sherlock.” John swore. “Get on with it.” he breathed, moaning as he freed himself from his tightened trousers. Sherlock started stroking himself slowly, and  _god_ , was it the sexiest thing ever. 

John leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the screen as he stroked himself in time with Sherlock’s movements. The microphone started to pick up sounds, and – wait. Was that John’s name? John gasped as he heard it again, and his eyes fluttered. “Sherlock…” he breathed, stroking himself faster. Then Sherlock was tensing, arching his back and – stopping his movements. John whined softly and stopped his as well, wanting to see Sherlock come before he did. 

Sherlock rolled over, searching for something in his nightstand. John inched closer to the screen to see it better; his heartbeat accelerated when he figured out it was lube. Oh God. Oh God, yes. John bit down his bottom lip and started stroking himself again, a slow pace to keep himself satisfied while watching Sherlock move. Sherlock eventually made a satisfied hum when he found _something_  that was in that drawer, and John gasped. A dildo. A toy. Sherlock had a bloody  _toy_. Oh God.

John’s pace fastened, and he moaned loudly, quickly muffling himself. Had Sherlock heard that? Maybe. But who cared anyway. John groaned again as Sherlock sucked on the toy and stroked himself slowly. Oh this was so good, and so wrong. But John didn’t care. Maybe he could blame science for it, definitely a thing Sherlock liked to blame whenever he did something wrong.

John bit his lips when Sherlock pushed a finger inside himself, and John had a hard time breathing like he should. He stopped touching himself, feeling as if he was too close already. How could watching Sherlock do such things to himself be so arousing? John moaned when Sherlock added another finger, and he stroked himself again with slow, lazy strokes, but oh so pleasurable.

Sherlock called out John’s name again, and John whimpered as he bucked his hips up his hand. Sherlock soon added a third finger, and John growled low in his throat, fastening his pace again. Sherlock cried out, and John was more than sure that the detective had hit his own prostate.  _Fuck._  Sherlock removed his fingers, and – oh God - he grabbed the dildo. He slicked the toy, positioned it and then pushed it in, eliciting a moan from himself. John groaned and panted slightly, pumping himself faster again, watching Sherlock closely.

Though Sherlock wasn’t touching himself, having him thrusting a toy inside himself was one of the sexiest things John had seen, and he moaned loudly again, massaging his tip. It was so easy to imagine Sherlock sitting there under John’s desk, his mouth wide open and looking at John as if to beg him to come and fill his mouth. “ _Christ!_ ” John gasped, dropping his head forward. No, wait. He had to see Sherlock.

John looked up again and was rewarded with the sight of a furiously thrusting Sherlock, writhing, panting and groaning. This should be illegal, a Sherlock like that should be illegal. It was so good. John moaned and bit his lips, then whined almost in sync with Sherlock as the detective stopped moving again.

And before John knew it, he was coming, gasping loudly and spilling over his hand and bare legs, just from the sight of the moaning and slick Sherlock panting. “Oh – God.” John breathed, sitting wasted in the chair. Then Sherlock started moving again and for the first time in John’s life, he got hard almost immediately again. Sherlock was pulling the toy out, and then back in. Forcefully.

It took Sherlock two times to do that, then John was pumping himself again, moaning and biting his lips to muffle the sound. He was close again, still sensitive from a minute ago. Sherlock started touching himself again, his back arched and his hips pushed up. And oh, if that wasn’t the most beautiful sight in the world. John leaned back and started thrusting into his hand, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Sherlock moaned, gasped and then cried out John’s name as he came over his stomach, his body dropping against the mattress, spent. John groaned, fastened his pace and then came again, gasping Sherlock’s name breathless. He panted and ran his left hand through his hair, looking at Sherlock who was laying still on the bed, evening his breathing just like John was doing.

John reached for the tissues behind the screen and cleaned himself, watching how Sherlock pulled the toy out. This was so wrong. He couldn’t help but keep thinking that, because it was  _true_. It  _was_  wrong to look at your flatmate like that, to invade someone’s privacy like that. John was so lucky Sherlock had no clue, for once.

But then Sherlock’s eyes focused on the camera, and John gasped.  _Shit_.


	3. Chapter 3

They didn’t talk about it. 

They didn’t talk about it when Sherlock emerged from his room in his gown; not at all looking like he’d had a dildo pressed inside his arse just minutes ago. He hadn’t removed the camera, though both men knew it was there. They had agreed silently that this was okay, that John could get off to Sherlock getting off to thinking about John.

They didn’t talk about it when a furious John pressed Sherlock against the wall and John in return had an erection pressed against his hips. John didn’t even register it until he was finished with his rant about Sherlock’s selfishness and incompetence of even _caring_ about if he’d get shot or not.

They didn’t talk about it when John _did_ notice the erection, his face flushed, and he started stammering. “John, its –“ Sherlock started, and then there were hands on him, unbuttoning his shirt and running over his chest downwards. Sherlock gasped and immediately bucked up, his mind suddenly _very_ blank. He licked his lips just as John sucked on his neck, leaving a bruise.

Sherlock made a noise, and his head lolled backwards to grant John more access. “You complete _git_.” the doctor growled, scraping his teeth over Sherlock’s skin to elicit a moan. Sherlock whined and pressed his eyes close, his trousers straining his cock painfully. “J – John…” he moaned, just as John started to palm him. Sherlock gasped at the relief of pressure and rolled his hips against John’s hand, desperate for release. 

John removed his hand all of the sudden, and Sherlock whined, following the movement with his hips. “ _No._ ” John replied, pushing Sherlock back against the wall. “Soldier.” he tried, and Sherlock felt like coming right there and then. “Oh, _Captain_.” he breathed, eyes fluttering close as he nearly slumped against the wall. John smirked. Even though he mostly wanked through Sherlock’s … _alone_ time, he did observe what the detective liked. And apparently, pulling rank was one of them. 

John gripped Sherlock’s hips and rolled his own against them, moaning at the wonderful friction. “John, please…” the detective pleaded, and John shook his head as he bit Sherlock’s shoulder. “That’s _Captain_ for you.” he growled, smirking almost devilishly when Sherlock whimpered and nodded. “Captain, please…” Sherlock pouted, and John just _had_ to capture those lips with his own. He kissed Sherlock deeply, slipping his tongue in that wonderful mouth. 

Sherlock whimpered, a bit mind-blown by it all, but letting it happen, because it was _John_ who was touching him. _His John_. Said John now started tugging at his own belt, and Sherlock’s heart started pounding with anticipation. He’d get to see John’s cock, suck him off. Oh, _God._ Sherlock dropped himself to his knees even before John was finished unbuckling his belt. The doctor looked down almost surprised, and then he bit his lips when Sherlock undid his trousers instead.  

“Are you going to be a good boy, now?” John asked, and Sherlock elicited another moan, nodding eagerly. “Yes, Captain.” he said, and John tangled a hand in the dark curls. He tugged lightly, Sherlock moaning and eyes fluttering. “Aren’t you a pretty boy.” John purred, Sherlock glaring up as if to ask for permission. “Suck.” John ordered, and Sherlock obliged immediately.

“Oh, _fuck_.” John gasped, pressing his eyes close. That _mouth_. “Perfect.” he breathed, bucking his hips up slightly. Sherlock made a noise and looked up at John from under his lashes, his jaw going slack, showing John that he was allowed to fuck Sherlock’s mouth. John felt like exploding right then, just _thinking_ about the noises Sherlock would make. “I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth.” he growled, and Sherlock nodded with his mouth still wrapped around John’s cock. 

John pulled back slightly, and then pushed back in all the way, his moan mixed with Sherlock’s. “You’re enjoying this?” John breathed, repeating the gesture. Sherlock made a strangled noise, some saliva dripping down the corners of his mouth; it was _the_ most beautiful sight ever. “God, if you could see yourself right now, choking on my cock.” John smirked, starting a slow pace. Sherlock groaned and moved a hand to palm himself, immediately moaning in alarm when John yanked at his sensitive hair.

“Don’t touch.” John breathed, fastening his pace and moaning. “Oh – Sherlock.” he groaned when Sherlock’s tongue touched his cock, and a spark of electricity flamed through him; pooled right in his stomach. “You’re _such_ a good boy. Come on, make your Captain come.” John encouraged Sherlock breathlessly, the saliva now almost flooding out Sherlock’s mouth. Tears stood in Sherlock’s eyes, but said man was moaning as if he enjoyed this. John groaned and gripped Sherlock’s hair tightly, the warmth embracing his cock.

“Fuck, Sherlock.... Suck.” John ordered, and Sherlock hollowed his cheeks in obedience as he pressed his tongue against the shaft again. John moaned loudly and closed his eyes again, focusing all his attention on Sherlock’s warm mouth around him and the little sounds he was making. And then he did it.

Sherlock moved a hand behind John and pressed two fingers against the doctor’s entrance; and that was all John needed. He cried out Sherlock’s name loudly as he spilled inside the hot mouth, gasping when Sherlock licked him clean. He slumped to the floor and panted, not daring to move in fear that he might just die of the good orgasm.

He looked up when he heard wet skin slapping, and he gasped when he saw Sherlock’s hand around himself, finishing him off. “Oh …” John breathed, watching intensely now that he could see it in _person_ instead of on the laptop screen. Sherlock was panting, bucking up inside his own hand and moaning, eyes pressed close firmly. John was staring, until he knew what he could do. “Look at me.” he said, and Sherlock obliged with fluttering eyes. “Brilliant.” John praised, and Sherlock gasped loudly as he came, spilling over the wooden floor.

Both men panted for a while, Sherlock also slumping back on the floor. “That was-“ the detective started, and John cut him off. “Don’t speak.” he murmured, closing his eyes. Sherlock stared at John and nodded, indeed not speaking as he stood up a bit wobbly. He went to get some tissues from the kitchen and cleaned the floor. He still didn’t speak when he went to the bathroom and left John on the floor.

They didn’t talk about it when John joined a few minutes later and they washed each other clean. Sherlock stepped out first, knowing John was watching him when he was drying himself. He went to his room, and a few minutes later John stepped out the shower, too. He took a towel and went to his own room to dress.

They didn’t talk about it the following days.  


End file.
